Fawning Part 2: Why Ultra-Independence Isn’t Always Freedom
We celebrate independence.
We’re taught to strive for it. To hold our own. To not be a burden. To prove—quietly or loudly—that we can do it all without needing anything from anyone.
And many of us are really, really good at it.
We manage the logistics, the emotions, the work, the care. We pride ourselves on being strong, self-reliant, capable.
We are fine—until we’re not.
Because underneath all that capability, something deeper may be happening in the nervous system: a survival response. Not just fight, flight, or freeze. This one is more subtle. More socially rewarded. And much easier to hide behind.
And it’s called Fawning (aka, the 4th ‘F’)—the impulse to over-function, over-give, avoid conflict, and appear endlessly competent in order to feel safe, connected, or valued. People-pleasing, the need to accommodate, and to be as perfect as possible are examples of fawning.
But here’s what often goes unnoticed:
Ultra-independence can also be a form of fawning.
It may not look like appeasement or people-pleasing on the surface.
But if we’ve learned that asking for help = being a burden…
If we feel safest when we’re in control…
If we’ve internalized the belief that being needed is the only way to be loved…
…then “doing it all alone” isn’t just a strength. It’s a nervous system response.
And it’s one that keeps us stuck in a loop of exhaustion.
We’re Not Designed to Do It All Alone
The nervous system thrives in co-regulation—not just giving to others, but receiving too.
But for many of us, receiving feels dangerous. Vulnerable. Foreign. Weak.
So we reinforce the walls of independence with productivity, helpfulness, and resilience.
But deep down, we long for something else:
To soften our often-tough exterior.
To be loved for who we are and not just what we do.
To know that our worth isn’t measured by how much we carry.
That’s not weakness. That’s healing.
An Invitation to Reflect
If any of this resonates, pause and ask:
Where did I learn that needing others made me a burden?
When did I start believing I had to earn my worth through usefulness?
What would it feel like to receive—without guilt, apology, or explanation?
These questions aren’t just mindset work.
They’re body work. Nervous system work. Real, tender, integrating-the-whole-self necessary work.
You’re Not a Burden. You’re a Human.
When you next feel triggered into putting on your Ultra-Independence Armor, please remember:
You’re allowed to need support.
You’re allowed to rest.
You’re allowed to show up as your full, real self—messy, radiant, tender, complex.
Being strong is beautiful. So is letting someone else hold you, too.